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CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: MY HUSBAND ROSE'S POV Even though two weeks have passed, it doesn't seem like it has been that long. It's because, despite the fact that not much has transpired, it feels like a lot has. Uncle Raven ordered his men to begin his assault on the British as promised. It was vicious and callous, just like a person. Only two of our men died, whereas more of their men did. Triads are still hesitant about a war they do not have a place in, even though the Italians are currently on our side. Min Hao appears to be amenable to bargaining, so Hades requested me to speak with him. Ethan was more intrigued by the concept, though. He objected to the idea of me talking to Min Hao alone. Since he is still recovering, I will only agree with him for the time being, but I am aware that in the long term, we cannot exist independently. If the Irish send in their allies, there will need to be more involved than just the family. We have somehow been living our lives blissfully aside from the attack. Early in the morning, Zeth and Eya and I go for walks or go through company financial information. Ethan's approach to business is surprising to me, his degree of expertise rivals mine in all areas. When I questioned him about where he got these ideas, he claimed that his "family" was to blame. The one he recently informed me of. He discussed a point in his life that I was completely unaware of for the first time ever. I don't feel relieved when our days go by without incident. It's the quiet before the storm, if anything. Belle informed me at dinner that the storm had already occurred during the shooting, so why do I feel like it is only the beginning of it? Eya informed me two days after the assault that they were unable to obtain a DNA sample from Igor's wine glass because she was interrupted during the assault and was unable to preserve the DNA. I didn't get another sample of Igor's DNA during his recent visits since I was too busy with Ethan, but I will soon have it. All I could think when I saw Ethan lying in his own blood was that I had lost him just as I had gotten him back. I have therefore stayed at his side while he slowly heals over the past few weeks. I haven't visited the workplace much, and even then I always bring my work with me. Even though it's challenging, I manage to balance two lives at once so that Ethan may get back on his feet. His rehabilitation has gone without a hitch. Even Dr. Halili acknowledged his strong immune system. He was formally referred to be his honorable advisor by Uncle Raven last night over a meal with the leaders. Even though there was no official ceremony, Ethan is now a part of Uncle Raven's inner circle. I might have been wary of how close Ethan had gotten if it had been a few weeks ago, but it's unthinkable now that he risked his own life to save mine and Uncle Raven's. The bridge between us that broke has gradually begun to be rebuilt. It feels like there is a connection between us that can be saved for the first time since our marriage, one that is not purely physical. Don't get me wrong, having sex with Ethan has a mysterious intensity. Words are inadequate to express how liberating it is. Ethan insisted on f*cking me only a few days after getting shot; he wouldn't stop talking about it whenever we were in the same room. As a result, I tried to get on top of him and ride him to protect his wound. However, he unexpectedly threw me onto my back and f*cked me till I yelled his name. Since then, it's become a habit. I attempt to ride him, and he initially cooperates, giving me a feeling of power before stealing it away a short while later. For me, at least, it's not really about power anymore. The tension and chemistry that develops between us every time. Being in his arms is what interests me more. Most likely, Ethan is interested in the power and control that comes with it. He enjoys it when I wrestle with him in bed so he can control me. He enjoys seeing me in a helpless position. Holding my throat is something he enjoys doing. He enjoys having me underneath him, calling out his name and pleading with him to slow down or run more quickly and forcefully. He likes those activities and is not embarrassed to say so. I'm so addicted to that side of him that even if he's hurt, I completely let go. He had the stamina of a youngster on one of those nights, and he continued without stopping. I was more worried that he would rip out his sutures and we would have a slaughter than I was about the lovely discomfort between my legs. Fortunately, that didn't happen, but I misjudged my capacity for endurance and could hardly walk the next day. Throughout the entire walk, Ethan made fun of me about it. Every time I successfully complete the challenge, his eyes light up with mirth. If not interrupted, our conversation can go on forever. Starting off as a form of physical therapy for Ethan, our morning strolls around the garden have evolved into something I eagerly anticipate every day. Even though Ethan and I frequently disagree, there is tranquility in chatting while I have my arm around his waist. I got up early today so I could help with making breakfast. I haven't cooked in a very long time, but I give it a shot with the kitchen crew and ignore the odd looks Eya and Zeth keep giving me. What does it matter if what I'm doing is unconventional? Although I haven't cooked since moving in with Father, I used to do it quite well when I lived with Dad. My memories aren't flawless because that happened sixteen years ago, but it will still work. I cook some pancakes and spread jelly on some toast. Even though some of the toast is a little toasted, Ethan has no right to gripe after everything I did for him. No, I'm not carrying this out for him. Just out of guilt over what happened to him as a result of me, I'm doing it. I'm done now. That's all. I prepare the picnic basket and try to go upstairs while holding it. Ethan is already at the door waiting for me, though. He's sporting a white shirt and his regular black jeans. His wound is concealed by his clothing and a bandage, but I can barely make out the hole that is in his chest. I find it difficult to speak as the memories of him being shot flash back in my head. They progressively fade until his incredibly distinct aroma overpowers me. As he does every day, Ethan rests his hand on my arm. " Good morning," 'Morning. Do you feel more energetic today? " "After I f*cked you until you tore the covers yesterday, are you still asking that?" My face heats and I quickly scan the area in case anyone has heard me yell, "Ethan!" 'What? " "If someone is listening, what if?" "They exhibit inclinations, too. Does auditory porn exist? " "You have no chance." "Because I had sex with you? I'll accept that badge in good faith." "For treating everything with such a lack of shame." "We have already been married. It is widely acknowledged that divine union includes f*cking." He is unchangeable. I have no chance of getting him to quit stating such basic things. He becomes more inventive in his attempts to irritate me the more I try. But if I'm enjoying this part of him in secret, is he truly grating on my nerves? "May we leave now?" I inquired. Still not. His voice quivers with desire as he says, "I need to know how my gorgeous wife is today. Did you sleep well last night with my c*m inside you? " "Stop it." 'Why? When you were muttering, "Harder, Ethan," in that f*cking seductive voice, nobody seemed to mind." Despite my best efforts to counteract the effect, my blood is flowing concurrently to both my ears and my core. When he speaks in such a blatant manner and with no regard for the rest of the world, a strange sense of pleasure overtakes me. The two of us are the only people in the world like him. 'So?" He taps my shoulder with his elbow. "You didn't respond to my query. How are you feeling today? " "Sore," I mutter. "Once I get you in our room, you'll be even more upset." "Ethan, you're still healing." "As immortal as the devil, I am. You don't need to be concerned about it." That's the issue, and I am concerned. I am concerned that even though he has already dodged two bullets, the third will undoubtedly kill him. I concentrate on him, trying to get those awful thoughts out of my head. My husband.